


Gain or Loss is...

by PKA



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Hints of Dom Will, M/M, Masturbation in Shower, Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Finale, Shameless Smut, Showers, Well Almost Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-13 05:13:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9108028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PKA/pseuds/PKA
Summary: Will and Hannibal long for something. Will grows tired of waiting.





	1. ...a Matter of Water

The house was modern, but relatively small. Two bedrooms, of course, and a spacious kitchen to accommodate each of Hannibal’s whims, but only one bathroom that needed to be shared by the two of them.

Hannibal was a perfect housemate all around - he never left hairs in the sink, never forgot to close the lid of the toilet and he usually got up and ready before Will even woke. In fact, there was only one thing that betrayed his morning visits to the bathroom in the first place: the shower’s tuning.

It was an advanced thing, that shower, all white and chrome, and Hannibal preferred it set to something akin to the sensation of rain. It was entirely unlike the brutal drumming Will liked, waking and massaging his tired bones with cascading hot water.

Sometimes, Will left it like that, stood under the shower and imagined how Hannibal felt, gentle dripping trickling down his body. Maybe their foray into the Atlantic had left him afraid of water, but Will didn’t think that likely. More probable was that Hannibal just enjoyed the tactile stimulation. Hannibal, who had not been touched tenderly in years, had found a substitution in soft rainfall that felt at times like a lover’s caress.

Will had never really been in need of physical closeness, but marriage had spoiled him for almost two years. He felt that ache just like Hannibal did and so sometimes he indulged in Hannibal’s shower settings, let the thick droplets run over his body while he brought himself to a quick, uneventful climax, tension and pent-up frustration ebbing away.

There wasn’t much to be frustrated about, all in all. Their life here was simple and peaceful, at least for the moment. Hannibal had yet to enter any social circles, and so the opportunity for murder hadn’t presented itself... yet. Will figured they needed to talk about that at some point. Actually, there were a lot of things to talk about.

They had healed in silence. No words about Jack, about Will’s family, about the Dragon, about what they had shared. About the plan, even. Will had just gone with whatever Hannibal came up with, and so eventually, they had ended up here. Why he stayed, Will didn’t know. It just felt right this way, as if the ocean had bound them together: the last piece of evidence needed to prove that separation was not sustainable.

They talked now, of course, but it wasn’t the same. Polite skirmishes, occasional stabs and provocations, just to prove that Will still had the gift of his own free will. Layer upon layer of unspoken truths that added to Will’s pile of uncertainty.

_Is Hannibal in love with me?_

Bedelia could have easily lied. If Hannibal did, he was making no moves to prove it. And so they stayed, stagnant, in their eternal game of chess, neither of them willing to admit to a stalemate.

Taking all of that into consideration, Hannibal’s way of showering was the most honest thing the other man shared with him. It made Will feel close to him in a way neither their dinners nor their conversations could. It gave him the opportunity to peek behind the curtain and see the creature on the other side: a man in raw need of physical affection, too proud to admit to even that.

The things they could share, Will thought. The things he’d be willing to try with Hannibal, if only he asked.

To an extent it was loneliness speaking, but the longer their situation dragged on, the more Will kept thinking about the experiences they refused to afford each other. It seemed idiotic to draw the line here – they had bathed together in the blood of an enemy slain and had both found it to be beautiful.

Another such day, under the spray of the shower. Gentle teardrops on Will’s back, lukewarm at first, and then hotter, until it felt like the burning sensation of a woman’s wetness all around him. Molly’s face distorted in pleasure, there and gone just as quickly, repressed by Will’s unwillingness to think of her - at all, but especially in such situations. It was still enough to make his cock stir. He took his time cleaning up, applying bodywash and shampoo before rinsing it out again.

A slick hand coaxed himself to full hardness. With his forehead resting against the tile, Will closed his eyes and gave in to the urge his body presented him with. Deeper down his fingers went, over the rough skin of his taut balls and the faint hair on his perineum, just as focused on cleaning as giving himself pleasure. Will stroked over his hole almost accidentally, provoking a violent shiver and a new image in his head: Hannibal, touching him there with deft, experienced fingers.

His cock jumped excitedly at the very thought and Will suppressed a low moan. Suddenly, the water around him changed from a woman’s heated embrace to something darker and more twisted. Hannibal’s body pressed against him, teasing. Will arched his back, the flow of the water changing, like fingers running down his spine. He wondered, then, for the first time, what role each of them would take. What he would prefer. What Hannibal would prefer.

Another brush, another tremble, another twitch of his dick. No recollection of the last time he had felt so horny. It took all his self-control not to take himself in hand and bring himself to completion with a few quick, tight strokes. This was not what he wanted, he reminded himself and this time, it was not what he was going to get.

With a flick of his wrist, the water turned icy cold, freezing his libido for the time being. Another memory, the last before he had fallen unconscious: Hannibal holding him in his arms, even while they hit the dark surface of the Atlantic.


	2. ...a Matter of Chance

Will was still half-hard when he hurried through the house, clammy clothes sticking uncomfortably to his body. He left a trail of driblets behind him, dyeing the carpet darker. It looked like blood.

He found Hannibal in the living room with his back to him, currently occupied with the sketchbook he held in his hand. He stood close to the window, barefoot, staring into the sky. Night had given way to morning only minutes ago - his gray hair and fair skin were kissed by the rising sun.

Will had never seen anything more beautiful.

»The Golden Hour is one of the few instances when I wish I had taken up painting instead of drawing,« Hannibal said, attuned to Will’s presence as usual. 

»Strip.«

Upon that, Hannibal turned around, red light encircling his face. He looked at Will - first at his messy, still wet hair, then lower at his tented pants, and up again without a change in expression. »Pardon?«

»I want you to take off your clothes,« Will said.

Hannibal's face turned into a mask. A few seconds of silence trickled by. Chances were equal, Will thought. He had made his move and now he had to live with the consequences.

Hannibal made his choice, decided to indulge Will. While holding eye contact, he slowly started to unbutton his crisp white shirt. Will did not look away, not even when Hannibal reached the button of his pants and slipped them off in one swift motion. He merely stepped closer, trapping and being trapped by familiar eyes, soft and orange now from the warmth of indirect light.

»Everything,« Will whispered when Hannibal made no move to continue.

The shirt got brushed off broad shoulders and landed on the floor unceremoniously. A heartbeat later, the shorts followed, adding to the heap of discarded armor.

Only then did Will lower his gaze to look his fill.

Frizzy hair covered most of Hannibal's chest and some of his stomach. Beneath that lay strong muscle and skin that had fought against the softness and crinkliness of age. He was in good shape, all in all, with a bit of a pouch and very lean legs. He was almost surprisingly thin from the waist down, but, as Will noticed with some annoyance, well endowed. Of course he was, the dick.

»You're alright,« he acceded after a while, before he extended his hand to touch.

The hip seemed like a good and safe place to start. Hannibal's breath hitched at the first moment of contact. His composure seemed to crumble instantly: lids lowering, lips parting, breaths harshening, all from a delicate caress. The raised scar tissue on Hannibal's abdomen attracted Will and he brushed over it with his fingertips. Dolarhyde's bullet had exited here, could have easily killed Hannibal - or Will, for that matter. Hannibal trembled under his light touch. The proof of his love.

»Would you like me to kiss you?« Will asked.

»Would _you_ like to kiss me?« Hannibal aimed for nothing except curiosity, but his voice betrayed his emotions.

Will leaned in close, eyes focused on Hannibal's mouth until he could feel his hot breath on his face. The tip of Hannibal's tongue came out to wet his lips. Will knew he wanted it, could hear and smell and taste it in the air.

Teasingly, Will came closer, not allowing their lips to touch. He hovered over Hannibal, mouths just an inch apart, waiting, waiting. Hannibal swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing, before he leaned forward. Will evaded his attempt at kissing him, pulling away before the longed-for contact was permitted. It was a high-risk scenario – a wrong move and this tiny reality of theirs would crumble.

A quick look into Hannibal's eyes – pupils dark and fathomless from arousal – before he asked the most straightforward, daring question.

»Do you love me?«

»Will - «

»Do you?«

» _Yes._ «

Will wanted him to say the words, wanted him to beg for it, but it was enough, for now. He liberated them both, leaned in and finally slotted their lips together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to split the second chapter up once more, so there'll be more coming soon. : )


	3. ...a Matter of Determination

Will didn't know what he expected, but kissing Hannibal Lecter felt like drowning once again – drowning in a lake of avidity and passion and the shared desire to consume and be consumed.

Fingers dug into his skin, painful in their need to hold. Will gave in, stepped closer and brought their bodies together, reveling in the heat of Hannibal's body, only his clothes separating them. He wished he had foregone dressing – it seemed such an awful waste of time in hindsight. What a nice thought it was: Hannibal's hands holding onto his bare hips instead of the clothes covering them; Hannibal’s naked body pressed against his own, warmth mingling.

It was unlike any other first kisses Will had had before. Passionate right from the start; years and years of denied contact getting the better of them, overpowering them until only instinct was left.

Hannibal sighed - a trembling little thing that got lost in Will's mouth and yet said more than a thousand words.

Will's lips wandered to the side, kissing the corner of Hannibal's mouth. »Do you think of me?«

»Often. You have to be more precise.« Even his words were shaky.

Will pulled back momentarily. A light pink had started to bloom on Hannibal's cheeks. »Under the shower.«

A blink. »Yes.«

Will exhaled. »I figured. Is this better than your imagination?«

He kissed Hannibal again, deep and filthy, his tongue licking over Hannibal's lips and into his mouth, tasting and claiming. Hannibal just took it, too overwhelmed, perhaps, from the sudden intimacy.

»Very,« he whispered when they parted again, drunk with bliss.

»Undress me,« Will demanded and Hannibal's hands were beneath his clothes instantly.

The sudden touch made Will shiver, raised goosebumps on his flesh. He let Hannibal pull the shirt over his head and the trousers from his legs; let him see, let him feel. Will embraced him like that, naked and soft and warm, and they both sighed from the pleasure of two pieces finally clicking into place.

Will's fingers roamed Hannibal's back, marking the map of Hannibal Will had inside his head. He drew in all kinds of new places: scrapes and scars and spots of soft skin, all unfelt before. Hannibal barely skimmed him, focusing on the unlearned sensation of touch, astonishment emanating from his every pore.

A small shift in position and their cocks brushed together, causing electrical signals to shoot through Will's brain.

»Oh Hannibal...« he breathed and Hannibal's grip finally tightened in response, pulling him closer, torso to torso.

»Will,« Hannibal murmured. It sounded shockingly thin.

»Like this?« Will asked and meant everything. Like this, by the window, red light shining on them as if the sun itself was bashful at the sight. Like this, standing, equal, close. Like this, with Hannibal's labored breathing in his ear and his twitchy fingers on his hips.

»I imagined this very differently.«

»How?« Will asked and pressed a quick kiss onto Hannibal's lips. »How did you imagine it?«

»I would have laid you out on my bed, kissed every inch of your body. I would have made you feel... so loved.«

Will smiled. He felt Hannibal's beating heart against his chest, the thin layer of skin barely separating them, oxytocin spreading through his veins. »I feel loved.«

Another kiss, deep again. Hannibal's tongue, eager to play now, tasted like coffee and morning.

»Do you want to go to bed?«

Rather than giving an answer, Hannibal turned them around and pressed Will against the wall, long damask curtains brushing against Will's back. Lips wrapped around Will's cock before he even had a chance to struggle.

A surprised moan fell from his lips but the action was entirely welcome. Hannibal took him avidly, wet mouth and slick tongue pulling more noises out of him.

»Good,« Will said, fingers running through Hannibal's short hair, eyes locked with his. »God, you're _so good_ to me.«

A hand moved between Hannibal's legs and he started stroking himself, slowly and from root to tip, the sight as irresistible as unwanted.

»No,« Will said decisively, mouth watering despite himself. »I'll take care of that in a minute.«

 _A minute?_ Hannibal's eyes asked, mischief making them sparkle and he continued with so much fervor as if to make Will's statement come true.

Will threw his head back, eyes closed, and his mouth fell open in sympathy. His hands familiarized themselves with the shape of Hannibal's head as if on their own: the softness of his hair, the sharpness of his cheekbones, the fullness of his cheeks, filled by Will's own flesh. Neither did he try to guide Hannibal, nor did he focus on his technique. He simply savored the gratification Hannibal awarded him, sublime and beautiful. Sounds of Hannibal's making filled the room, slurping and sucking, wet and carnal. But they didn't reach Will, nothing did. His ears were filled with rushing and soon he gave in to the waves, let Hannibal pull him under, came at the thought of dangerous eyes and pointed teeth.

The first thing he perceived when he surfaced again was the dirty grin on Hannibal's face.

»Less than a minute,« he taunted, pressing his mouth to Will's thighs in a way that spoke of nothing but devotion.

»Shut up and kiss me or I won't take care of anything.«

And Hannibal did, standing up with the same grace and feline attitude as ever. Will could taste himself on his lips, the flavor unpleasant in its intimacy, but he tolerated it for the pleasure of Hannibal's mouth on his. Hannibal was a good kisser once he acquired a taste for it – and he was hungry now, despite the appetizer.

It was Will's turn to shove Hannibal against the wall now, even if his knees felt weak.

He brushed his nose against Hannibal's stubbly cheeks, kissed his brow and nibbled on his earlobes. »Tell me what you want.«

»You.« So damn honest.

Will chuckled breathily. »You have to be more precise,« he said, hauling out his worst Hannibal impression.

Hannibal's love-filled gaze was almost impossible to meet. »I'll take whatever you want to give me.«

Will shook his head, kissing his way from Hannibal's jugular to his clavicle, burying his face in the juncture of his neck and shoulder to smell him. »Stubborn bastard,« he murmured against him while his hands picked up exploring again, trailing lazily over exposed skin.

Hannibal soon became relaxed under his touch, his formerly exerted breathing becoming slow and deep. He was still hard, and Will still intended to get him off, but right now Hannibal seemed content with having Will close, seemed content with just being petted.

»You really are a dick, you know,« Will said softly.

»A matter of perspective,« Hannibal said, eyes closed, focused on the silent music Will's fingers played on him.

»But you have been so... nice, the last few months.« Will peppered Hannibal's shoulder with a few more kisses. »Not murdering and eating people, even though you had plenty of opportunity. Giving me time and space to make my own decisions. Not being a manipulative son of a bitch for a change. You've been so patient. So determined. And God, you must have wanted this badly. For years.«

»You could have left,« Hannibal said and his eyes opened to fix on Will's. »I gambled.«

»You often do. Would you have let me leave?«

»I'm... unsure.«

»It would have been pointless regardless,« Will said, his hands ceasing their movements so that he could concentrate on what he was saying. If he were merely a bystander, it would have been a strange picture to see: the two of them standing so perfectly aligned, nakedly touching and holding each other, sharing truths like never before. »I tried fighting it, but I know now. I cannot live without you.«

Hannibal's eyes lit up. »And with me?«

 _That is yet to be decided_ , Will thought.

Someday, Hannibal would stop being nice and considerate. Someday, Hannibal would start playing with him again, pushing him to the extreme. Someday, Hannibal would start killing again. Will knew this. He had carried that knowledge with him from the first moment he had been able to leave and he had decided against it every moment since. He did not intend to change that now. Instead, he decided, he wanted to try something new.

»Enough talking. Come,« Will said instead of answering the question, taking Hannibal by the hand. »You deserve your reward. Show me your bed.«

**Author's Note:**

> That's it! I hope you liked it! If you did (or didn't) - tell me about it in the comments, maybe? ; )
> 
> Thank you, [ fragile-teacup](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Gene_Hunt/pseuds/fragile-teacup/), for taking a look at this nonsense!
> 
> Come visit me on my [ tumblr](http://www.pka42.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
